


Echoes of You

by firefright



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: It's been two years since the Red Hood came to Gotham in an attempt to force Batman's hand. Two years since Dick last saw Jason and they shared a night of desperate intimacy he's since tried and failed to forget. So when the erstwhile second Robin turns up again in Bludhaven - coincidentally working a lead on the same case as Dick - it's a tense situation for them both. But this particular case is one neither is willing to back down from, which means Dick's only choice other than walking away is to suggest they work together to solve it.A course of action that would be so much easier to follow through on if he didn't still have feelings for Jason.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! Welcome to my story for the DCU Bang 2016! This fic was a labour of love and sometimes hate (when Dick and Jason refused to cooperate) but I'm very pleased with how it turned out in the end. Beta'ing for this beast was done by the lovely Skalidra, and as this is a Big Bang story, there is also [AMAZING ACCOMPANYING ART](http://slice-of-pai.tumblr.com/post/152577324927/echoes-of-you-by-firefright-its-been-two-years) for one of the scenes done by the talented Slice of Pai that I highly recommend checking out. You can view it at the link, or check it out further down below in the story itself to avoid spoilers.
> 
> A little more detail on the warnings for this fic: the case Jason and Dick work together to solve involves the pursuit of a group of child traffickers. Nothing graphic is shown, but the subject matter is still dark, so please proceed with caution.

The next time Dick hears any news about Jason, actual real news and not just unsubstantiated rumour, it's almost two years after the Red Hood's revival tour of Gotham ended, and his younger brother is running around with his best friend. Scratch that, best friend and ex-girlfriend.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, but instead it's truly, painfully real.

The next time he _sees_ Jason, real and in the flesh, it's six months after that and Dick is nursing a headache even before he walks into the already smashed up villain bar at the southern end of Bludhaven. There goes his lead on the trafficking ring.

Jason's sat at the bar, sans helmet, leaning his elbows back into the finely crushed powder of broken glass, with blood running down his face from his nose. He's nursing a shot glass of whisky, and his expression is dark when he notices Dick coming in the door. "Nightwing." Jason says flatly, talking as if they're complete strangers, then tosses back the whisky before smashing the glass on the floor.

"Hood." Dick forces himself to say, though he can't quite manage the same impartial air. He might’ve spent most of the last two years trying to move past what happened between them, but the truth is he’s still not ready for this confrontation. "What are you doing here?"

“Same thing as you are, I reckon. Fighting bad guys.”

Dick looks around the shattered ruins of the bar, at the men and women tossed into the corners and sprawled across the floor. Against all odds, and his own fears, most - if not all - of them still appear to be breathing. “It looks to me like you’ve already finished doing that.”

Jason laughs, brief and bitter, sudden as a gunshot in the middle of the night with his broad shoulders shrugging up under the leather covering of his jacket. “What can I say? I’m good.”

“Hood,” He tries, wanting to stay on track and not let himself get distracted by Jason’s very real presence in front of him. It’s been two years, and the last time they met was a bitter encounter, with plenty of words flung out with the intention to hurt, among other things. “There was someone specific I was meant to meet here. A contact. There’s a trafficking ring that I -”

Jason’s eyes are hidden beneath a domino, but Dick still recognises that cant to his head from when he was a boy. He knows that underneath the lenses and molded plastic Jason’s eyes will be bright with interest - and dangerous.

“Well how about that.” He slides off the bar stool, six feet of deadly muscle coated in body armour and weaponry. His boots crack over the broken glass on the floor as he walks forwards to stand in front of him, loud and fractious. “Looks like it’s your lucky day. Me and you are here for the same thing.”

Apprehension rises up in Dick, from the balls of his feet to the roots of his hair. He looks again at the bodies on the floor, hoping against hope to spy the man he came in here for among them. “Tell me you didn’t -”

Jason waves a hand. He always did talk with his hands, wide and expressive, as if words alone were never enough to convey his full meaning. “Nothing for you to worry about anymore, old boy,” he says cheerfully, “I’m taking the case off your hands. Consider it my gift to you.”

 _No,_ Dick thinks immediately, head filled with visions of what will happen if he lets Jason do that.

The kids will be saved, he knows that, knows what Jason is capable of in that respect. His compassion and dedication to protecting the innocent is second to none. But there’ll be no court cases afterwards. No trials. Only fire and blood left to find by the time the cops get there.

And another black mark on Jason’s record.

“No.” He repeats out loud, shaking his head. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“And you do?”

He hasn’t been this close to Jason in over two years, Dick is acutely aware of that, and he hates that his first instinct is to reach for his escrima rather than his words when Jason draws closer. He resists it, but only barely. He doesn’t think Jason will attack him now, not unless Dick moves first.

“Mighty high opinion you have of yourself there, Nightwing.” Jason continues.

“This is my town.”

“And I’ll be leaving it. Right now as a matter of fact,” Jason shrugs. There’s only two inches of height difference between them these days, and Dick’s used to being around people taller than him, yet today it feels like miles, “Dusty trail’s calling my name, big brother.”

“Where’s the traffickers headquarters located, Hood?” He tries for intimidating, and on anyone else other than another Bat - even a rogue Bat - that might have worked. Jason on the other hand just smiles indulgently, like Dick’s some kid trying to play dress up in their father’s clothes.

“Nice. You almost sounded like _him_ then. But sorry, that information is on a need to know basis only, and you ain’t got clearance privileges.”

“I’m trying to be serious here,” Dick begins in frustration, “if you’d just -”

“So am I!” Jason snaps back, mood and tone turning whiplash quick. He’s in Dick’s face suddenly, head tilted down, back slightly bowed, so that they’re almost nose to nose. Close enough that Dick can see the shadow of his eyes through the lenses in his mask and smell the stale sandalwood scent of whatever cologne it was he used the last time he shaved.

It’s magnetic between them, dangerous, and Jason realises it more quickly than Dick does when his body arches towards him even as he reaches for his escrima.

“Christ,” Jason says in something like wonder, expressive mouth twisting even as his eyebrows rise up to his hairline, “You still want to fuck me, don’t you?”

Dick recoils like the words have punched him in the gut, which makes way for the very real impact of Jason’s fist into his diaphragm. The layered armour of his suit protects him from any serious damage, but the blow still knocks the wind out of Dick and sends him stumbling back down onto his knees - a second before Jason drops a smoke pellet onto the ground.

By the time the smoke clears, and he’s done coughing and spluttering, Jason is gone.

There’s no question in Dick’s mind that he needs to go after him, even if it might be wiser to call up another of his contacts - someone for whom it would be less personal - to do the job instead. But he’s always had a bad habit of running full tilt towards danger, rather than away from it, and this time is no exception.

Dick starts to scan the bar, counting on the Bludhaven police department’s still notoriously slow response time to give him the space in which to work. There has to be a clue in here somewhere to where Jason is headed; his contact’s body if nothing else. If only he hadn’t been so taken aback at seeing Jason here in the first place, he might have had a chance at placing a tracer on him.

No, probably not. Jason knows their habits well enough that he’s probably checking his clothes for one right now. There’s no way Dick would ever have been able to follow him that easily.

He’s almost done checking the faces of patrons sprawled in the booths and on the barroom floor when he hears a whimpering moan from behind the bar itself. Dick twists at the sound, running and vaulting over the wooden countertop to land softly behind it, counting on his gloves to protect his hands from all the glass littering the stained surface.

Looking down, Dick can’t believe his luck. The very man he came to see lies curled up in a ball on the ground by his feet. His face is bloodied, and he has clearly broken fingers on one hand, but he’s still breathing. He must have been trying to hide back here when Jay caught him, and as Dick studies him, cataloguing his injuries, his eyelashes flutter and he lets out another whimper. It looks like he’s right on the verge of coming around; the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Quickly Dick drops onto his knees, pulling out one of his escrima sticks and holding it in front of his target’s face. He’s perfectly positioned so that when the unfortunate criminal opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Nightwing’s masked features staring back at him.

“No… no… don’t hurt me, please… I…”

Without sympathy Dick hits the trigger on his escrima, feeding it just enough power so that electricity crackles over the end of the stick, lighting up his own face eerily in the process. “Tell me what I want to know and I won’t have to.”

“What… what’s that?”

Dick seizes him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him in closer.

“The exact same thing you told the Red Hood.”

*

Nightwing walks out of the bar with a location, and a name.

The name is the one he was hoping to hear, but the location isn’t. However, what he’s been promised he’ll find there is what he likes to call a lead to a lead, which is more than he’s had in months when it comes to this particular case. Certainly it’s enough information for him to have a chance at catching up to Jason and intercepting him before he gets too far ahead in the investigation.

But first things first, he puts in a call to both the police and the ambulance services to make sure they are definitely on their way to the bar, so that none of the people left inside are going to be at any risk of dying from their injuries. It already feels like a miracle that Jason didn’t kill any of them outright, but Dick doesn’t want to take the chance that his fists have done more damage than they first appeared to.

Jason may not appreciate it, but Dick will rest easier knowing there’s less blood on his brother’s hands than there already is.

Then he heads out, grappling and leaping for where he left his bike a few streets back, hidden between a couple dumpsters to lessen the risk of some enterprising thief trying to steal it. His hands are restless as he checks the bike’s defences haven’t been triggered, and that the supplies he currently has stowed in the secret compartments within the machine will be enough for where he’s going before he straddles the seat and guns the engine.

If he could he’d take more time to prepare, but the truth is that Jason already has a head start on him, and if Dick wants to catch up before he reaches his target he can’t afford to waste a single second more.

Ten minutes later he’s roaring out of Bludhaven and onto the highway, heading west at a terrifying pace with no thought given to how many traffic laws he must be breaking. Going at this speed forces him to focus on the road, which is good, because otherwise he’d surely end up thinking about Jason.

Jason, who reappeared explosively in his life over two years ago, then left in a similar manner.

Jason, who came back from the dead filled with hate and a rage so all-consuming that it ate up all the pieces of the boy Dick used to know.

Jason, who’d looked him in the eyes in the bar, laughed and said, _Christ, you still want to fuck me, don’t you?_

Dick shudders, gripping the throttle far tighter than is strictly necessary. There are some things he can’t - _doesn’t_ \- want to think about right now, and Jason’s purposefully vulgar choice of words is at the top of that list.

Half an hour later he’s pulling up at what his bike’s inbuilt GPS is telling him is the right spot: an abandoned truck stop and motel just off the highway. Appearances however can be deceiving, so Dick’s careful not to ride in too close to the cluster of buildings at the end of the road, pulling up at the start of the layby instead before wheeling his bike into the cover of some nearby trees and bushes.

It’s not surprising to see that great minds think alike, as he spots the fresh tracks of Jason’s bike ahead of him before he finds the machine itself, carefully stowed behind a tree where it’s not visible from either the highway or the small collection of buildings nearby. Dick has to resist the urge to inspect it and feel if the engine is still warm as he hides his own nearby, because even if Jason’s bike looks far more like a civilian machine at first glance than Dick’s does, there’s got to be some kind of defence system built into it. If not by Jason, then certainly by Roy, who’s never been able to stop himself from getting his hands dirty and modifying any vehicle that comes within his reach.

(And he still doesn’t understand that, doesn’t understand _them_ , Roy and Kori and Jason together.)

If he’s too late then Jason will already be inside, working his way through any guards and digging into whatever evidence there is to be found. If he’s not…

Dick slips through the trees like a shadow, hopping over the closed gate to the truck stop and skirting around the edges of the parking lot. He’s primed, ready and aware, so that when the ambush comes he’s already turning and stepping out of the way of Jason’s attempt to drop down on top of him from the branches of a tall oak.

“I told you this wasn’t your case anymore!” Jason snarls at him, voice corrupted by the electronic filter of the helmet he’s now wearing. Dick hates that he can’t see his face anymore, but at the same time he counts it a blessing. It’s easier to pretend he’s dealing with just another enemy when he can’t see Jason behind that blank red countenance.

“And I told you that you don’t get to decide that.” Dick replies, just as hotly, his deactivated escrima sticks held openly in his hands. He keeps his eyes level with Jason’s own, deliberately not looking at the shape of the gun in his hand as it’s pointed towards his sternum. “I’ve been working this case for months, Jason.”

“So have I.” And Dick believes him, of course he does. There’s no reason not to. This isn’t the type of thing Jason would lie to him about, not when cases like these are the ones he takes more personally than any other. Which only makes this more problematic, because Dick quickly realises there’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to make Jason back off here without getting violent.

“Then let’s work together.”

The words trip out of his mouth like a drunk from a bar on New Year’s Eve, without permission or forethought. They must take Jason by surprise too, because he’s actually quiet for more than five seconds before growling out his answer.

“I don’t need your help, Goldie. Never have, never will.”

Dick’s fingers tighten around his escrima. He’s keenly aware of how delicate this situation is, and can only hope that Jason’s anger won’t blind him to what needs to be done, “I know you don’t, I know you can handle it alone, but two pairs of hands lighten the load. We can take care of this faster together than either of us could alone.” He takes a breath, “We can get to those kids faster.”

He knows he doesn’t imagine the tightening of Jason’s shoulders when he says that last part.

The seconds keep ticking by, before - with a gentle click - the safety slides back on Jason’s gun and he lowers the barrel to point at the ground. There’s nothing friendly or open about his demeanour still, but he’s not shooting Dick, which is a good sign to go on. Or so Dick hopes.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine, you can tag along with me this time,” he says, as if the words are being physically ripped from his throat, “But then we part ways and you go back to your stinking city. I’m not going to pull any punches with this one, and we both know how much you disagree with my methods.”

“You didn’t kill anyone back at the bar tonight.”

Jason rocks back on his heels as soon as Dick says it, taken by surprise, though he quickly covers it with his usual mocking sarcasm. “Well gosh, Dickie, I’m flattered you noticed. Do you want a gold star on your chart for that observation, or a silver one?”

“Please, we all know blue is my colour.” Dick says impatiently, returning the banter more out of habit than any real enthusiasm. “My point is, you didn’t kill anyone there, so you don’t have to kill anyone here either.”

“I didn’t kill anyone there because, contrary to what you and the rest of them think about me, I’m not some raging psychopath.” Jason snaps at him, before continuing more quietly. “I only kill the people who deserve it.”

 _That’s not for you to decide_ almost flies off Dick’s tongue, but he bites the words back. If he says them it’ll just cause another argument and destroy this fragile ceasefire between them. The clock is ticking. The longer they wait, the longer those kids will suffer.

“Look, Jay,” Dick observes the startled turn of Jason’s head at his use of that name; not Jason or Hood, but _Jay._ The intimately familiar shortening that only he and Bruce would ever call him by when he was a boy. “Just… not here. Just don’t tonight. I want to help you, but if you kill people -”

“If I say yes will you quit whining so we can get on with it?”

Dick tightens his jaw, nods.

“Then fine. Don’t say I never give you anything nice.”

Jason starts walking, and after taking thirty seconds to force himself into a calmer state of mind, Dick follows.

*

“Nice set up for a horror movie, ain’t it?” Jason says when they settle down in the shadows by the motel building to take a closer look at their quarry. “I’m thinking a rainstorm and you in skimpy lingerie. We could have a real hit on our hands.”

“Why do I have to be the one in the skimpy lingerie?” Dick taps his finger on the side of his domino, flipping the lense settings until he lands on infrared.

“You’d pull it off better than I would, unless you want to drag the Replacement out into this.” Jason gestures back to himself flippantly, “Besides with this mug I’m more suited to be the creepy killer, don’t you agree?”

The actual motel rooms are empty, but the office building to the side is showing signs of activity. Dick reads eight heat signatures inside.

Biting down on his instinctive urge to go on the defensive at Jason’s slight towards Tim, Dick shakes his head. “Take it off and maybe you could be the cute boyfriend who saves the day instead.”

The words just sort of slip out of him, and Dick’s not sure what it is they’re doing right now. Bantering, playing, or something else entirely, but it feels easy and natural, and that’s maybe the worst part. It’s hard to talk to Jay like this, knowing that afterwards they’ll be going back to fighting one another.

“Aw, pretty bird, that’s sweet.”

They need to stay on target, so Dick nods forwards, “I read eight, how about you?”

“Same.” Jason tone flips at once from playful back to focused. “There’s only two cars parked around the back. I’m thinking this is a meeting area for clients, where they size them up and make sure their money’s good before they let them near the…” his voice falters for a second, “... the kids.”

Dick resists the urge to put a hand on Jason’s shoulder, but just barely. His body is wound up tight. Touching him right now would probably be harmful than helpful. “Yeah. But that means someone in there knows where we need to go next.”

Jason doesn’t argue the ‘we’ this time, just nods. “So, I take the front, you take the back?”

“Sounds good to me. Here, sync your comm to mine, just in case.”

“Trying to get my phone number now? You know there’s easier ways to ask, Dick.”

Dick rolls his eyes as he rattles the frequency off, watching Jason adjust something on the side of his helmet until he’s keyed in. They test the connection just to be sure before splitting up, using the cover of darkness to move into position. The traffickers want to keep the truck stop’s appearance of being abandoned up for anyone who passes by, so there are no real lights on outside. Good for them, bad for the traffickers.

 _They’re confident_ , Dick thinks, confident that no one will figure out that they’re here. He looks forward to disavowing them of that notion.

Once he’s at the back door, he signals to Jason across the comm, and hears back his confirmation that he’s ready too. Lenses still on infrared, he takes a moment to map out where the nearest men are in his head before flipping them back to normal vision. It looks like some lights are on inside and he doesn’t want to be blinded as soon as he enters.

Falling into ingrained habits, they both count down from ten mississippi to one, then break in through their respective entrances at the exact same moment; Dick hoping to God that Jason will keep to his promise of staying none-lethal.

Dick emerges into what must have been the employee's kitchen when the motel was actually functional, surprising four men who look like they’re in the middle of a poker game. Without a moment’s hesitation he throws one escrima forwards, clocking the nearest thug on the head and knocking him out instantly before any of them have the chance to get up.

The second he takes down with a foot to the chest as he rises from his chair, sending him crashing back into the nearby countertop. The other two men, a little quicker than their friends, start to pull out their guns, and one even has the sense to flip the table over to use as a barrier between him and them.

If this was a firefight on both sides that might have worked, but Dick’s Nightwing, not some cowboy with a gun, and so he simply runs forwards, grabbing the edge of the table and flipping himself over it before they can react. A series of blows and kicks from his escrima and feet soon leaves both of the remaining traffickers groaning on the floor.

Dick grins as he walks over to the first man he took out to retrieve his other escrima stick. That wasn’t much of a work out, but it still felt good considering how wound up he’s been all night.

Then he hears the sound of gunshots on the other side of the building and the smile drops right off his face.

He runs, fleet as he can, out of the kitchen and up the narrow corridor, passing what seems to be a storeroom, bathroom, and coat closet, before emerging into the reception area, afraid of what he might find inside. “Hood -!” he starts to bark, ready for a far more difficult sight, only to be brought up short at the scene playing out in front of his eyes.

Three men lie on the ground, two of them still awake and whimpering and moaning as they clutch at their legs and the bulletholes in them. Jason stands in the middle of the room, completely at ease as he shoots a look back over his shoulder at Dick. “What?”

Dick bites his lip, ashamed suddenly. “Nothing. I just thought you might -”

“Yeah, I know what you thought.” Jason kicks one of them hard in the face, knocking him out instantly. He jerks his head towards another door leading out of the room, the words ‘Manager’s Office’ written across it in black lettering on a golden plaque. “The last one’s in there. Cowardly fuck ran the moment I walked in the door.”

Given that the door is now hanging off the hinges, Dick can see why. All of them are good at using fear and appearance to manipulate the criminals they prey on, but Jason is probably the most effective at it after Bruce. His height and size have something to do with it, but mostly it’s down to the way he carries himself, the set of his body and the way he prowls through a room, seeming to fill every corner with his presence.

“Then let’s go get him.” Dick says, choosing not to make any further comment on the reason he ran in here himself so frantically.

They knock out the last of Jason’s targets to be sure he won’t try to attack them from behind and then take up positions by the door. Dick stands beside it, ready to leap in as Jason lifts his foot and deals the lock a blow hard enough to shatter it instantly.

“Honey!” Jason calls mockingly as the door snaps open, ducking down as he throws himself inside to avoid any gunfire. “I’m home!”

But his behaviour completely changes when he spies what the remaining trafficker is up to. Piles of papers and notebooks have been thrown into a wastepaper basket, and the man, short, tubby, balding, and in his fifties, with round golden spectacles perched on the end of his nose, is holding a lighter above it all, ready to burn the evidence away. He pales as soon as he sees the two of them.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jason starts to growl, raising his gun, but Dick is quicker. Throwing out one of his wingdings so it strikes the man in the wrist before he can drop the lighter. It flies off into a corner of the room instead of into the basket, the flame dying along the way.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Tubby shrieks, cringing backwards as Jason thunders towards him across the small space. He seizes the trafficker by the front of his shirt and lifts him up off the ground with one hand before slamming him down on top of the desk.

A second later the barrel of Jason’s gun is shoved up high underneath his chin, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” He snarls through his helmet, the filter warping the sound into something completely inhuman.

“I can’t - I can’t… I can’t…” So terrified, their quarry can’t seem to form a full sentence anymore. He keeps trying to look behind Jason to see if salvation is coming, and his face turns completely white when he realises he’s completely on his own with the two vigilantes.

“Sorry, what? I don’t speak scumbag.” Jason lifts him back up, then slams him down onto the desk again. Forcefully enough to send a small paperweight crashing down off a nearby shelf.

Dick chooses this moment to step in. “We want to know where the kids are being kept.” He says harshly, moving in closer to look over Jason’s shoulder, close enough that he can intervene if necessary. “Tell us that now and you’ll make it easier on yourself later on.”

Quivering, the man shakes his head. “I don’t...don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t…”

Jason turns his head. “Nightwing, be a dear and grab me that letter opener, would you?”

 _A dear?_ Dick does as he’s told, if only to keep up the show. If they don’t present a unified force here the whole interrogation could fall apart. Thankfully he only has to go so far as to pick the letter opener up before a shriek of fear assaults his eardrums.

“No, no wait! Don’t! I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!”

Dick smirks inwardly, it’s always a pleasant relief when they luck out with a coward. He stands, spinning the letter opener between his fingers where it can be openly seen while the bespectacled man babbles out another address to Jason. His heart sinks though when he realises the location is too far away for them to make it there in time to do anything about it tonight.

So much for getting this finished quickly.

“Knock him out, Hood. We’re done here.”

Jason turns his head. Dick can see his index finger flex for a moment against the trigger of his gun, and the tension in his chest heightens for a moment before Jason pulls the firearm away from the man’s throat, then just as quickly pistol whips him across the face. The blow knocks him out - and breaks his glasses.

“Jesus, I think he actually pissed himself.” Jason complains, and there is the sour stink of urine in the air as well as a stain on the front of the guy’s pants, Dick notes distastefully. “Here, you take him.” he hauls the little man off the desk and throws him into Dick’s arms before he can even blink.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“Yeah, no I don’t.” Given that Jason didn’t kill him the way he clearly wanted to, Dick guesses that’s true. He hauls his captive back out into the reception room to zip tie him up alongside the rest of the gang, leaving Jason to poke about the office. It doesn’t occur to Dick that that might not be the best idea until - having secured the last man from the kitchen - Jason suddenly comes barrelling back out as if the very hounds of hell are at his heels.

“Hood?” He says, startled, but Jason’s already exited via the front door and can’t hear him. Dick spares a look towards the office, getting a glimpse of the papers and notepads Jason had pulled out of the wastepaper basket and spread out on the desk, before his stomach drops and he takes off running after his brother.

Outside, Jason’s not difficult to find. Dick turns to the left as soon as he exits the doorway and sees him stood at the corner of the building, leaning over with his hand pressed against the wall as he vomits violently onto the ground. His helmet lies discarded on the ground a few feet away. Dick thinks he must have ripped it off as soon as he got outside.

“Jay!”

The name flies from his lips again before he reaches Jason’s side, and this time Dick doesn’t hesitate- doesn’t _think_ \- before touching him. His hand rests on Jason’s back between his shoulder blades, rubbing small circles over his leather jacket. “Hey, hey. Easy… just breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay. Jay?”

Jason shakes his head, his whole body trembles under Dick’s hand as he bends over double, now only retching and coughing up bile onto the ground. It’s cold enough that steam actually rises up from what he’s already expelled, and the smell of it burns Dick’s nostrils as he focuses on trying to comfort him.

“It’s -”

“If you say it’s okay to me one more time,” Jason says hoarsely, “I’m gonna knock you out. Nothing about this is okay.”

Dick stiffens, but he keeps massaging Jason’s back. He’s wearing armour, but even so Dick can feel the Gordian knot of tension wrapped around his spine. “I know.”

“No, no you don’t.” Jason says, a ragged snap of a laugh working its way out of his torn throat. “That’s your problem. It’s always been your problem.”

Dick bites his lip. He does know… maybe he doesn’t understand how it feels, but he does know. Yet he can’t say anything about it, not here. “What was -”

“Photos. There were… like a fucking catalogue.” Jason swallows, wincing as his muscles convulse once more. “... I should go back in there and put a bullet in every one of them.”

As much as Dick would love to agree with him - the men in there are vile and deserve a whole lot worse - he can’t let that happen, so he shakes his head and lies instead, “I already called the local cops. They should be here soon.”

“I hate you.”

Dick doesn’t smile. He’s fairly certain Jason means it. “I know.” He glances back inside the office, “Are you okay to ride your bike?”

“Yes, Dick. I can ride my bike. I’m not a fucking pansy.”

“I’m just saying, if you still feel sick you can ride behind me instead, and we can come back to get your bike later.”

“I said I’m fine!” Jason shoves Dick away from him with unnecessary force as he stands up straight again, rubbing his mouth clean with the back of his hand. “Don’t fuss over me like I’m some dumb kid still.”

Dick has to bite back more of his concern, knowing it will do no good at this point. “All right, fine. But we do need to get out of here and find a place to plan our next move. So come on, let’s go.”

Wonder of wonders, Jason doesn’t disagree with him.

*

They leave the truck stop behind them, Jason following silently after Dick to retrieve their bikes before they get back on the highway and look for another place to stay. An actual real motel, one that hopefully doesn’t have too many roaches crawling around inside the walls.

They stop briefly by the roadside for Dick to set his bike into disguise mode, and exchange his uniform for the emergency civilian clothes he keeps tucked inside a hidden compartment, before heading inside. It’s much easier for Jason to disguise himself, since his outfit is already more or less civilian wear with body armour underneath it. So long as he hides all his weaponry and no one takes too close a look at him he can get away with it.

He gives Dick a strange look when he comes back out of the office with the key for a twin bed room, rather than two singles.

“It was all they had.” Dick defends, which is again another lie. He just wants to keep Jason close so that he can keep an eye on him over the course of the day. He feels bad about it, but he doesn’t trust Jason not to try and skip out on him again otherwise.

Jason shakes his head, apparently too tired to argue. “Whatever.”

He’s been uncharacteristically quiet the whole ride, and it’s the same now as he follows Dick into the motel room. Or at least, he was being uncharacteristically quiet so far as Dick knows him anymore, which if he’s honest with himself is not well. A lot of years have passed since he last spent significant time with Jason. And it’s been over two more since their last disastrous encounter.

What Jason’s been through in the time between is enough to change any man, but his memories of the past are all Dick has to use when trying to interpret his behaviour today.

“Jay,” he starts to say when the door’s closed and locked behind them, the creeping horror of what Jason must have seen in those files and records from the traffickers office sitting uneasily in the back of his throat, but Jason ignores him. Instead, he makes a beeline for the tiny attached bathroom and shuts the door forcefully behind him, effectively putting a wall between himself and Dick.

A second later he hears the shower start running.

Dick sighs, but at least this gives him the chance to place that call to the police that he’d lied to Jason about phoning in earlier. He also sends a quick message to Oracle, informing her of where he is and what he’s doing, while leaving out any mention of who he’s doing it with. He trusts her, but she still might tell Bruce he’s working with Jason out of concern for him, and that could lead to an even bigger mess on their hands.

No, it’s better he do this alone. For the sake of the mission and for Jason. Maybe, just maybe, if he tries hard enough he can even get through to him the way none of them have been able to previously.

By the time Jason comes out of the shower, hair damp and eyes clearer than before, if red still around the edges, Dick is sprawled back on one of the thin beds, trying to figure out how to lie down so that none of the broken springs are poking him in the back.

“Hey,” he smiles hopefully, waving a takeout menu he found in the bedside drawer. “You want to order pizza in?”

“What are you doing?” Jason asks bluntly.

Dick blinks, then looks at the menu in his hand. “Asking you if you want pizza.”

“ _No_.” Jason pulls his hand back through his hair in frustration, the curls weighed down by the weight of the water soaked into them. The white streak in his hair glistens amongst the black like liquid silver. “What are you doing here? With me. With this. Why aren’t you...”

There’s nothing of the cocky young man who taunted Dick in the bar earlier here now. This Jason looks strangely open, visibly hurt and vulnerable, his hands clenched down into fists by his sides. He’s left the body armour off beneath his shirt, and despite the reality of his size he looks so much smaller without it.

Dick’s gaze softens when he sees that. He drops the takeout menu and pushes himself to sit up, crossing his legs underneath him. “I’m helping you, Jay. That’s all. I’m helping.”

Jason shakes his head. “No, you’re babysitting me, that’s what you’re doing. Making sure I don’t massacre any crooks and make dad mad again.” He walks over to the other bed and seems to collapse down on it, the springs squeaking in protest beneath him. “This isn’t going to end the way you want it to.”

“How do you think I want it to end?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head again, drags his hand through his hair. “Us being heroes together? Me repenting of all my sins?” His eyes, teal bordering-on-green these days instead of blue, slide furtively across to look at Dick. “I don’t know.”

Dick sighs. “Look, Jay…”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Jason.” Dick corrects himself. “The way I see this ending is that you and I save a bunch of kids, and we shut down the trafficking ring together. That’s all.”

“Without me killing anyone.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

Jason shakes his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling and the stationary fan hanging down from it. “Then boy did you pick the wrong case to keep me company on, Dickie bird.”

“Look, if you want to talk…”

“That’s the last thing I want to do.”

Dick digs his fingers into his calves. The space between them feels like miles. He wants to be closer, wants to touch, assure; find Jason again beneath that prickly outer shell. He wants to know where he’s been and what he’s done since the last time he saw him.

He wants to understand what it is that changed between them, beyond the obvious.

He licks his lips, finds them feeling dry and cracked. “It doesn’t have to be about the case.”

The bed springs squeak as Jason rolls over to look at him. Dick remembers him being short, the same height at fifteen as Tim grew to be permanently, but now he’s so big his toes stretch almost all the way to the end of the bed. There’s still a disconnect in his head between the Jason of now and the Jason of _then,_ one he struggles to rectify even when the evidence of how much he’s changed is right in front of him.

If anyone asked - and he hopes they wouldn’t - Dick would admit that it’s hard to take his eyes off Jason now. The height, the muscle; the breadth of his shoulders and the circumference of his thighs are all fascinating to see, not to mention the changes in his face. The strength of his jawline, the sharpness of his cheekbones… Even the brighter green tone to his eyes and the white streak sitting curled over his brow only work to heighten that difference. Jason’s an adult now, not a teenager, and boy does it show.

“So then what? A heart to heart? Come on, Dick, even you can’t be that stupidly optimistic.”

“Why not?” Dick sets his jaw. “It’s been over two years since the last time I saw you, Jason, and then I hear that you’re running around with Kori and Roy. Of course I’m going to -”

“Bothers you, doesn’t it?” Jason isn’t smiling the way Dick might have expected him to when he asks that question. He almost looks nervous, rather than smug and superior.

Dick ruminates on how honest to be about that. Eventually he just throws all his cards to the wind, figuring this may be his only chance to reconnect with Jason and find out the truth since Roy had been oddly close lipped the one time Dick tried to talk to him about it. He’d asked Dick to trust him, trust _them_ , that they knew what they were doing. As if that was all the answer he needed.

And it was. But Dick still hates it when people use his trust in them against him.

“A little.” He admits finally. They’re his friends, they have been since the days _he_ was Robin, and Jason is....

“Afraid I’m corrupting them?”

“Roy and Kori, not a chance.” Dick says, and means it. “They’re two of the best people I know.”

He doesn’t miss the sideways dart of Jason’s eyes when he speaks. “They are that.”

That admission is a little unexpected, but Dick takes it as a good sign and rolls with it, deciding to probe a little deeper. “Roy told me you saved his life in Qurac.”

“Yeah.” Jason nods, still wary. “He’s a good guy, and I don’t let good guys die.”

“And Kori -”

“She saved me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” he clears his throat, “Got in over my head, blew up a submarine in the middle of the ocean. Next thing I know I’m waking up on a tropical island and she’s there, patching me up like some kind of alien Florence Nightingale. While I was recovering with her we heard about Roy, and I…” He shrugs. Well half-shrugs, since one shoulder is pressed down against the mattress. “I guess it just sort of snowballed on from there.”

Dick’s eyes widen. It’s the most information he’s learned about the origins of the Outlaws since the first time he’d heard they were even a team. “You blew up a submarine in the middle of the ocean. With no escape plan?”

Jason smiles crookedly, “What? It can’t always be drug lords and trafficking rings. Sometimes it’s nuclear weapons smugglers instead. And I did have a plan, actually. It just didn’t go the way it was supposed to.”

He laughs for lack of knowing what else to do, putting his face into hands as he shakes his head. “Jesus, Jay.”

Jason waits for him to get hold of himself before he carries on, the smile gone as quick as it came. “So yeah, you see, nothing sinister afoot. You don’t have to worry about me hurting your friends.”

“Jason, that’s not what I -”

“Yes, it is. But whatever. You’ve got no reason to trust me anymore, Dick. Not after what I’ve done. I know it, you know it. Let’s not pretend otherwise. That’s why us working together on this case is never going to work out.”

“I want to trust you, Jason.” Dick says, not without a sense of urgency as he watches Jason sit back up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Believe me, I do. If you’d just give me a good reason to.”

Jason gets to his feet, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “That’s not the way it works, Dick. I can’t just -”

“If Roy and Kori stay with you then something has to have changed, Jason. Something has to… you have to have changed somehow since the last time I saw you.”

He thinks back to the bar. All the living bodies instead of dead ones. The way Jason gave in to his request to spare the men back at the truck stop. Something about Jason is different than it was two years ago, he’s sure of it. Maybe because of Roy and Kori, or maybe just because of Jason himself.

There are parts of Dick that will always remain hopeful, no matter how pragmatic he tries to be about the world he lives in.

“You’re still a good person.” He continues. “I know you are.”

Jason shakes his head, then steps closer. The boots he put back on along with the rest of his clothes after his shower thud heavily against the floor, and Dick looks up as Jason leans down over the bed, planting his hands on the mattress so that their faces are only inches apart. He wills himself not to move, not to react to the reality of Jason being so close to him.

The last time they were this close, they -

“Go back home, Dick.” Jason says softly, the breath from his lips ghosting over Dick’s own. “We’ve been over this. We went over it two years ago. If you keep following me now, all I can promise you is disappointment and heartbreak at the end of the night.”

“Jay…” he says, wavering at their proximity. It hits him hard that there’s something he’s missing here in the face of the revelation about Jason’s new team, some piece of the puzzle that’s integral to the picture behind it. If he’s fell in with them as much as Dick is starting to suspect he has there’s a reason why Jason meant to come out on this mission alone, rather than with Roy and Kori. “If you’d just tell me what’s going on, I can help you.”

“Can’t do that, big brother.” The pad of Jason’s thumb grazes his jaw now, and Dick wonders if Jason still feels that attraction between them the same way he does, or if he’s just playing off of it now to manipulate him. “If I did, then you’d definitely try to stop me.”

“For God’s sake, Jason, do you not hear me? I want to help you. If you’d just stop pushing me away I’d -”

Jason kisses him, hard and furious, just as passionately as he did the last time they met. It’s not gentle or tender, or anything more than a brutal push of their mouths together, but it’s enough to make Dick lose track of everything he wanted to say as his hand jumps in time with his heart, grasping tight onto the collar of Jason’s jacket. He’s pushed back - _down_ \- onto the bed, and then Jason’s on top of him, leg between his thighs. He bites Dick’s lip, and it stings, just the same as the sudden push of the needle into his neck does.

“I know what you want, Dick.” Jason says softly as he pulls back, “But I also know what you can handle. That’s why I’m doing this for your own good.”

Dick shudders as the drug runs into his system, hitting him with devastating speed. “Jay… no…”

“Shh,” Jason shakes his head, catching Dick’s arms as he attempts to struggle, to fight, and pushing him back into a comfortable position. “Just go to sleep. You’ll thank me for it later.”

“Jay…” He tries one last time, but it’s too late, and the last thing Dick’s sees - or imagines that he sees - is the regret stamped across Jason’s face right before his eyes fall closed.

*

When Dick dreams, he dreams of two years ago. Of Jason turning up in his Bludhaven apartment, hot blooded and angry, desperately doing his best to reason with Dick where he had failed with Bruce; even when he knew he was just setting himself up to fail again.

He dreams of words thrown with all the devastation of bullets. Of Jason’s hands on his hips. Of the way he looked when Dick finally admitted that he’d beaten the Joker to death once when he invoked Jason’s name to taunt him, before Bruce used CPR to bring him back to life.

He dreams of the touches that followed, of kisses that felt like punches, and the cold memory of waking up to the sight of an empty bed beside him.

He dreams of -

*

Dick opens his eyes to the lazy light of the afternoon sun filtering in through the blinds covering the motel room windows.

It takes time for him to remember where he is, and how he got here. What he was meant to be doing before he was forced to take what must have been at least a ten-hour nap, and when it does finally come back to him Dick shoots up from the bed like a jumping jack, then topples right off the side of it, hitting the floor with limbs that are sluggish and uncooperative.

“Jason?!” He calls out, even though he knows it’s too late and he’s already long gone.

The silence echoes back at him, and Dick bites down hard on his lip, counting on the burst of adrenaline the pain will inspire to rocket him back up onto his feet long enough to get into the bathroom. He twists the tap over the sink, running it until the water’s freezing cold, and splashes it first on his face before gulping down as much as he can stomach to hydrate himself and chase the anaesthetics lingering effects out of his system as fast as possible.

He doesn’t have much time. If in fact he has any at all.

_Please, Jason. Please don’t have done anything stupid._

Trying to raise him on the comm line they’d shared accomplishes nothing, and that only serves to put more worry in Dick’s chest. He races out of the room as soon as he feels clear-headed enough to ride, leaving the room keys on one of the beds behind him. Even the brief time it would take to hand them back to the clerk properly feels like it would be a minute too long. Jason has a major head start, and if there’s any chance of catching up to him Dick can’t waste even a second.

He grabs his bike and heads to the nearest safe place to change into his uniform before hauling ass along the highway. He drives like a madman, attracting the attention of at least three separate police patrol vehicles along the way that he easily loses because the power of the machine he’s riding far outstrips their own.

By the time he gets to the warehouse location he and Jason had learned of from the truck stop traffickers, it’s early evening and the last rays of the sun are just starting to fade from the sky overhead. Just like that place it’s out of the way from any public roads, but that’s where the similarities end. This site is built on private land, behind barbed wire fences and gates with uniformed security guards manning them.

It all looks very nice, very official and not at all like a place where the worst scumbags on Earth do their work, and Dick can’t help sucking in a breath at the realisation that the operation going on here is on a much larger scale than he thought it was before. He wonders if Jason knew that already, or if he was just as surprised as Dick is now looking down on it from the cover of a nearby hill.

“Hood?” he tries again, activating the comm in his ear. “Jay, c’mon. I’m at the site, where are you? Jay?”

Nothing, again. And Dick frowns harder down at the pair of men hanging around by the gate. There’s something about their postures, something sharp and alert, in a way that security guards never are unless...

Oh no.

He switches to night vision, looking down more intently at the collection of warehouses and office buildings. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. Walls marked by bullet holes, and a very familiar looking and now trashed bike being examined by another group of armed men on one side of the open yard. The only other vehicles in sight are a couple of trucks, and Dick can easily guess what those are used for.

Anger rises in equal parts to the fear he feels that something could have happened to Jason, and though it might be wiser to wait and scope out the situation a little more - even wait for backup - Dick knows he has no time to waste. He has to go in now, or he might forever regret what might happen if he doesn’t.

Skirting down the hill, he times his approach so that the security cameras are turned away from his point of entry, counting his lucky stars that these guys don’t use dogs as part of their patrols. The barbed wire is no problem. The miniaturised laser wire cutters he keeps in his gauntlets slice through it like butter, and just like that Dick is over the fence and inside the compound.

Now he just figure out which building holds Jason, and which one holds the kids. It’s Sophie’s Choice to prioritise one over the other, but Dick has to make the decision. If he goes for the kids first and he’s caught at it, they could kill Jason if his worst fears are true and he’s been captured. On the other hand if he goes for Jason first and is discovered, there’s a risk they might try to escape with some of the kids before he and Jason can get there to stop them.

The answer is obvious; go for Jason first, and _don’t get caught._ And if he takes out as many of the men on the outside as he can without detection first, even better.

He slips behind one group, and listens into their conversation just long enough to gleam what he wants to know. They’re all discussing the intruder who broke in and took out over a dozen of their men before they caught him, and the fact that some of their friends are ‘entertaining’ him right now.

Dick grits his teeth at the implication, but resists the urge to jump in and take them down hard and messy. Instead he pulls out a small metal grenade of sleeping gas from out of his belt, activates the timer on the outside, and then carefully rolls it in under their feet.

Thirty seconds later he has four less potential enemy combatants to worry about.

Dick stows the bodies in the shadow of one of the buildings and ties them up. He also picks up one of their radios and checks what frequency they’re using before wiring his personal comm unit to listen in to the same one. It’ll help him on his way.

Climbing up the side of the building Jason is being kept in is easy, dealing with what he sees going on inside when he peers in through one of the windows is not.

Jason’s tied to a chair in the middle of the floor, surrounded by ten armed guards. His jacket and helmet are missing, but the red domino mask he wears underneath it is still on, which is some kind of a minor blessing. That wouldn’t be so bad in itself, except for the fact his face is bruised and bloodied - the work of the slick looking man in the pinstripe suit stood in front of him, wearing knuckle dusters over his hands.

His blood boils, and it’s only years of discipline that stops Dick from leaping down feet first to take them all out. This looks bad. Very, very bad.

Carefully, Dick eases open the window after greasing up the hinges with some WD-40 he keeps in with the rest of his gear for just such a purpose. Holding his breath when he slips inside a bad guy’s hideout is a habit he started back when he was an impressionable nine-year old, and still keeps up today. It probably only helps in his head, but when there’s no creak from either the window or the catwalk below him Dick won’t count the method out on actually contributing to his success.

Without the pane of glass in the way, he can hear clearly the threats and taunts being levelled at Jason as Pinstripes questions him. It’s the usual: “How’d you find out about us? Who else knows?” deal these types focus on, and Dick’s not surprised to hear that Jason’s giving back as good as he’s getting - verbally at any rate - despite his busted lip.

Dick sneaks over the catwalk as quietly as he dares, sorting through his small arsenal of supplies as he plans the best approach for the situation. Drop in fast and take them by surprise, obviously. But he needs to do it in a way that will lessen the risk of Jason getting shot in the process. He squints down at the chair Jason’s tied to. Well, it’s not bolted to the floor…

He climbs up onto the railing, fastens a line to the metal to slow his descent to none-leg breaking levels, then lets a smoke bomb fall from his hand before throwing three wingdings in quick succession at the lights hanging from the ceiling above. A second later Dick’s sliding down to ground, quick enough that he makes it down exactly five seconds after the bomb does, which is easily enough time for it to go off and blind everyone in the vicinity.

Pitch darkness combined with a wall of smoke is more than enough to put the odds in his favour.

But first he kicks Jason’s chair over to get him under the line of fire, ignoring the indignant snarl he hears as his brother hits the floor. Dick’s still got the lenses in his domino activated, so he sees the thugs around him by merit of their body heat even if they don’t see him. He pauses just long enough to drop a wingding into Jason’s bound hands so he can start sawing himself free, then gets to work.

Since the thugs can’t see, they’re more hesitant about opening fire, afraid of hitting their friends or their boss in the process. Dick uses the opportunity to come at them like a shadow, in a way he’s sure Bruce would be proud of, ducking and weaving at every turn as he uses his escrima sticks and feet in quick succession.

Pinstripes - evidently some kind of lieutenant in the organisation - is screaming at them to get their shit together and deal with the vigilante menace in their midst, but he shuts up and crumples to the floor when Dick strikes him hard enough in the jaw to knock loose a tooth or three. He has to move, has to hurry, if any of them let off too many gunshots or get outside…

There’s a snap of ropes breaking as Jason works himself free and staggers to his feet, lunging at one guard who was trying to get the drop on Dick from behind and wrapping his arm around his throat in a strangle hold. They go down together, the thug struggling and trying to bring his firearm to bear, but Jason rips it out of his hands and tosses it to the side, holding grimly on until he passes out.

Across from him, Dick takes another man down and just like that they’re done. Just in time too, as the smoke bomb’s effects have spread far enough across the warehouse floor to no longer offer any decent cover.

Immediately Dick whirls on Jason, an angry recrimination ready on his lips, but Jason beats him to having the first word.

“I told you not to follow me!” he snaps, or more accurately slurs. The sleazy guy in the pinstripes has done a real number on his face. “I could’ve -”

“What?! Handled it?!” Dicks asks incredulously. “Yeah, you really looked you had control of the situation there, Hood.”

Jason spits blood and phlegm onto one of the unconscious thugs, then coughs and does it again before touching his face gingerly. He has the decency to look a little ashamed of himself, if not to actually apologise. “This isn’t your business, Nightwing.”

“It is when you’re in danger of getting yourself killed!”

Jason starts at his sudden outcry, even takes a step back. “N…”

Dick shakes his head, unwilling to hear any excuses. “What the hell is wrong with you? Jesus! You could’ve… you…” He steels himself, now is not the time to give Jason this lecture, as badly as he wants to scream at him to get his head on straight.

“We’re going to talk about this more after we’re done here,” Dick forces himself to say instead, “but right now we still have a job to do. How badly are you hurt?”

Jason’s expression hardens again at the reminder, swollen and puffy as it is with rapidly rising bruises. There’s blood running down through his hair and over his forehead too, staining the white streak red, and Dick itches to pull him over so he can get a closer look at the split skin beneath it. “Yeah.” he mutters, “We do.” Then he straightens up, talking louder, “Not bad enough that I can’t keep up.”

Dick watches him turn around and limp off to the side of the room, where there’s a table holding what looks to be Jason’s custom pistols, as well as his jacket. He slips the jacket back over his shoulders stiffly, and the way he’s holding himself is all wrong as he checks his guns to make sure that haven’t been tampered with. He’s obviously lying about how badly he’s hurt, but Dick lets it slide, for now.

“You know where the kids are?”

Dick nods uneasily, realising that Jason’s hands are shaking a little, in addition to how pale he looks. “Yeah. Largest building. The one across from this one. It shouldn’t be hard to take out any remaining men in the area, free them and then call the cops once we’re sure they’re safe. I’m wired into the traffickers radios, and there’s no alarms going off. They don’t know that I’m here yet.”

“Good. You should go then. Go take care of them.”

The alarms may not be going off with the traffickers, but the ones in Dick’s head definitely are. The feeling he had back in the motel room is back again, stronger than ever. Instinct has always been one of his strongest assets when it comes to crime fighting - to life in general - and right now it’s screaming at him to listen to it.

“We should go together.” He says instead of moving the way Jason clearly wants him to, shaking his head. “It’ll be safer.”

“Someone needs to stay and keep an eye on these fucks.”

“They’re unconscious, and we can tie them up. They’re not going anywhere, Jason.”

He watches Jason bite his lip, the hard line of his shoulders. The tremble of what could be pain or barely suppressed rage.

“Please, Jay.” Dick tries again, softer this time, well aware of how manipulative he’s being. He hates himself for it, but at the same time he’s not lying either. “I need your help. The kids need your help.”

Maybe the only thing more powerful than Jason’s rage in this world is his compassion. Dick speaks the truth, and Jason can’t help but react to it.

“Fine.” Jason says eventually. “Hurry the fuck up then.”

Dick takes care of most of the work with securing the downed men. He’s glad they started using zip ties for ordinary thugs some time ago, as they were far easier to fit into the hidden compartments in his boots and gauntlets in large numbers than handcuffs. Not many people knew how to escape from a zip tie without the help of a knife, and that fact had worked out in favour for those on the lawful side of the masked community. He’s still angry enough with Jason for running off ahead, for getting himself captured (and afraid underneath that, for what might have happened if he hadn’t gotten here when he did) that he’s rougher with tying up and hauling the downed traffickers to one side that he normally would be - but considering the business these men are in Dick isn’t anywhere close to sorry for it. They’ve caused pain to and traumatised too many children to ever be forgiven for their crimes, every bit of discomfort they get in return is well deserved.

“Done.” he says eventually, looking back to where Jason has remained, leaning against the table his guns and jacket had been left on. His face is still pale underneath his mask, but he looks sharp and determined, his fingers drumming an impatient beat against the metal tabletop. “Let’s go.”

Exiting the warehouse is a lot easier than entering it. They just walk out the front door, since Dick knows from his earlier observations that there’s no one stood right outside guarding it. If there had been they surely would have heard the ruckus from the fight and come running in to help. A lot of criminals had what could be called a suicidal loyalty to those providing their paycheques.

The other warehouse, the larger one, does have guards posted at the doors, because that’s where the ‘merchandise’ is kept. They creep around the empty space between the separate buildings using the shadows and parked trucks for cover, Dick always keenly aware of Jason’s position at his back and the faint wheezing sound he makes when he breathes.

“You sure you’re okay to continue?” He asks quietly, as he pulls out a couple wingdings to throw. Maybe it would have been better for his health to leave Jason behind with the guys they’d already taken down, but Dick knew with dismal certainty that Jason’s motivation in staying hadn’t been anything to do with wanting to rest and recuperate.

“Fine as sunshine, big brother,” Jason drawls, his fingers stroking over the triggers of his guns. “You going to throw those stupid things or what?”

“Non-lethal shots only, Jason.”

The clench of his jaw hardens further at Dick’s words. Then Jason seems to settle back, grimly nodding. “Stop pussyfooting around and get to work, Nightwing.”

He throws. One. Two. The men stumble back against the warehouse walls, and Dick and Jason use their surprise to take them down together, one solid punch to the jaw each. Jason checks the men’s pockets, looking to see if either of them have keys, and makes a triumphant sound when he finds them.

There’s one big key on the ring for the door. The rest are small. The typical size and shape for handcuffs.

Inside the warehouse is where Dick starts to falter. They open the doors and at least forty pairs of eyes turn to look at them with fear and pessimistic expectation. There’s so many, he thinks in a daze, so many children. None of them above the age of twelve, and the youngest only maybe six-years old, wearing an assortment of torn and dirty clothing.

All of them, every single one, are chained to the beds they’re sitting on.

He must makes some kind of sound, a horrified cry, because a second later he feels Jason’s hand press against the small of his back, while the other holds his hand by the wrist.

“Deep breaths, N.” Jason says softly in his ear. His voice is unquantifiable, somewhere between resignation and magically suppressed rage. “Keep it together now, for them. They need to see a hero, okay? They need to see Nightwing.”

“J - Hood…”

“I know.” Then Jason’s slipping past him, putting his guns back into their holsters. He holds up his hands to the children, displaying the keys he holds in them before approaching one of the beds.

The girl occupying it is one of the older ones, and she balls her hands into fists but doesn’t flinch back as Jason kneels down in front of her. Dick feels like he’s watching a pantomime play, a silent movie, where everything is spoken in subtle shifts of the body rather than with words. Jason’s entire demeanour has changed in this moment, from aggressive hard-boiled vigilante to the infinite gentleness of a man who knows what it is to suffer in so many ways, and empathises too deeply with others in the same situation to ever be free of that pain.

Without words he offers out the keys to the girl, waiting patiently as suspicion and distrust wars over her face. Finally she takes them, snatching them from his hand. There’s a pause as she waits for recrimination, then when none is forthcoming she stabs the first key into her cuffs, twisting until they fall from her wrists. Jason stays still, doesn’t move an inch as she slides off the bed - with another wary look back at him - then rushes to do the same for her neighbour. Then the next kid, and the next…

Dick stays in place too, waiting as the children free themselves from their bonds and keeping watch at the door. Finally one of the kids is bold enough to approach him, standing up tall on bare and dirty feet. Pulling on his background as a performer, Dick manages to paint a smile on his face as he crouches down. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The little boy says softly, “Are…” He glances around, aware all the other children are watching him now. Dick is careful to keep his expression easy and calm as he waits for him to continue. “Are you a superhero?”

“I’m Nightwing. And my friend is Red Hood.” Dick nods. “We’re both superheroes.” he says, loud enough that all of the children and Jason will hear it too. “We came here to help you.”

The boy shifts, wavering on his feet. He has a soft accent that isn’t American, one Dick can’t immediately place. “The bad men -”

“Are down.” Dick assures him. “We got them. They can’t hurt you anymore, I promise. We’re going to call the police to come get you and they’ll take you all somewhere safe.”

It takes a little more coaxing, but gradually more of the children approach and Dick’s smile turns from performance to genuine expression at the cautious relief in their eyes. It’d would be a lie to say they’re okay now; they’re not, and they probably won’t be for a long time yet. But they’re safe from further harm, which is the best he can do for them right now.

He talks and talks, lets them watch and listen in when he places the call to the police. Lets them hear every detail he exchanges with the operator so they’ll know he’s not lying.

“Hey, Mister ‘Wing?” One of the children asks him when he’s finished, holding onto the arm of another girl.

Dick smiles at her, “Hi there. What is it?”

“Where’d your friend go?”

Dick freezes in place. Then he stands back up, looking hurriedly around for Jason, of whom there’s no sign. “I don’t… did any of you see where he went?”

There’s a collective shaking of heads, except for a couple of children who point back out the open door of the warehouse. Dick bites his lip, torn between staying with them and searching after Jason.

“All right, I’m going to go find him.” he eventually says. “I’m going to shut the door while I’m gone too, okay? Don’t open it for anyone but me, or until you see the police arrive.”

Dick waits ten seconds for the children to give him their affirmation, then he runs.

There’s no point trying to rouse Jason on his comm since his helmet is still missing, which leaves Dick having to track him down the old fashioned way. The first place he checks - the smaller warehouse where the men who were interrogating Jason are still bound - is bereft of his presence, so Dick moves on, going round every building he can find.

Then he hears the gunshot, coming from the direction of the security gate leading out of the site.

Dick doesn’t hesitate to head in that direction, the staccato beat of his heart preceding his dread at what he’s running into.

He finds Jason, stood with his gun out and pointed down at a man on the ground. A man who is dragging himself backwards down the road, trailing blood from the busted knee Jason’s already put a bullet into. His expression screams hate and fear, but it’s nothing compared to the loathing currently twisting up Jason’s face.

Of the men who were guarding the gate earlier, there’s no sign.

“Hood, stop!!” Dick snaps, not hesitating to throw himself forwards between Jason and the downed man.

“Get out my way, N.” Jason demands, as first shock and then exasperation colours his voice. Given that this is the third time Dick’s intercepted him in the space of twenty-four hours, the latter isn’t surprising. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” Dick refuses, shaking his head as he holds out his hands towards his brother. “I can’t let you kill him.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?! Do you even know who this guy is?!” Jason gestures with his gun behind Dick, trying to get an angle to shoot past him. “He’s the one behind the whole thing! The big gun, the head honcho. The chief sicko of sickos!”

Dick didn’t know that. He doesn’t know how Jason knows it either. He’d gotten a name - Lee Bridges - but not a picture to match to it. “Hood -”

“This guy’s ruined the lives of countless children and you’re _defending_ him!”

“That’s not what I’m doing and you know it!” Dick snaps back, moving his body to stop Jason from being able to get a clear shot. He’s counting on the admittedly flimsy reasoning that Jason won’t want to shoot him to keep the target alive. “He has to stand trial for what he’s done! The same as any other criminal.”

Jason shakes his head, openly incredulous. “Then he goes away for a few years on a minimum sentence, gets parole, and is back out on the streets again. I’m not letting that happen, Nightwing, no fucking way. I caught this cowardly fucker trying to make a break for it all on his own, and now I’m going to put an end to him before he can hurt anyone else.”

Behind Dick, Bridges lets out another groan, but he doesn’t dare take a moment to look at how he’s doing. A moment is all Jason will need to put an end to him.

“That won’t happen, Hood. I promise it won’t happen. Put the gun down.”

“You can’t promise that!” Jason bursts out, face twisting up into something like agony and despair. “It doesn’t work that way. You can’t just - just promise things and expect them to work out! How can you be so fucking naive still?”

“Hood -”

“No! No, I’m done talking to you. I tried. I fucking tried to keep you out of this, I warned you what was going to happen, but you’re the one who insisted on following me every step of the way.” Jason’s teeth are gritted, and that slight shake is back to his hand. “Now get out of my way, before I’m forced to hurt you too.”

“I’m not moving, Hood.” Dick says quietly, but firmly. He’s only stood by and let one person die before, and afterwards he’d sworn to himself _never again_. It doesn’t matter how terrible the crime, it wasn’t the right of any one person to decide life and death for another.

They stare off at one another, across distance and time. The passage of emotions across Jason’s face is a parade of years; from broken boy to vengeful man, then finally to betrayed brother.

Dick hears the gun cock and grits his teeth, digging into his resolve.

Instead of doing the sane thing and getting the hell out of Jason’s way, he steps forwards, watching the uncertainty flicker over Jason’s face the closer he gets. The hand holding the gun continues to shake - also not a reassuring sign - and it only gets worse by the time Dick’s right in front of him.

“Jay.” he says quietly, safely outside the range of the perp’s hearing. “It’s okay, Jay.”

“What the fuck are you doing?! What the fuck -” Jason starts to demand, then goes very still when Dick grabs the gun by the barrel, pulling it forwards against his chest. Point blank range, right over his heart. There’s no way Jason can miss, no way the shot can fail to kill him if he pulls the trigger. Even the reinforced material of his suit won’t protect Dick at this distance.

“Get the hell out of my way, Dick.” Jason says hoarsely, dropping his voice down low as well. His jaw is clenched so tight that Dick fears it might snap apart on itself. “I have to do this.”

“You don’t.” he says firmly, meeting Jason’s eyes through the lenses of his mask. “I know what these kind of cases mean to you, Jay, but you don’t have to do this.”

“Fuck off. You can’t -”

“I know you’re scared he’ll get off, that he’ll hurt more kids again. That you don’t trust the legal system to handle these kinds of cases, but I’m not asking you to trust them. I’m asking you to trust _me_.” He hears the sharp intake of Jason’s breath when he says. “Trust that I won’t let that happen. There’s more to this than you know, Jason.”

“You can’t promise that. You can’t -”

“I can. But only if you trust me. Only if you give me the chance to prove what I’m saying is true.” Dick swallows, “Please, little wing. I won’t let you down. I know I have in the past, we all did, but that won’t be the case this time. Give me the chance to prove it to you.”

Sweat is running down in heavy beads from Jason’s temple. “... or what?”

“You know what.”

Jason will have to shoot him. Or hurt Dick in some other way to get through to man behind him, who might very well end up bleeding out anyway if Dick doesn’t resolve this quickly. He’s playing with fire here, putting his life on the line, but that’s what Dick does. It’s what he’s always done ever since he first put on the Robin uniform.

If Jason snaps, if he lets the anger inside him or the remnants of the Lazarus Pit in his veins win….

The moment stretches out into eternity. Jason stares at him, and Dick meets his gaze without flinching, feeling the barrel of the gun dig into his breastbone as he leans forwards. The road out of the compound is silent except for the muted moans of pain of the injured perp.

“... you promise me.” Jason finally whispers. His adam’s apple dips as he swallows hard. “You promise me he has no chance of getting out. No chance of parole. He stays locked up and suffers for the rest of his miserable life.”

“I promise, Jay.”

“If he doesn’t I’ll find him again, and I’ll kill him, no matter what it takes. Even if I have to hurt you in the process.”

“If that happens, I won’t get in your way.” Dick says, as a final bargaining chip. “And you know I’d never agree to that if I wasn’t completely confident he’ll stay in prison.”

“You’re an asshole.” Jason says hoarsely, “You are a completely and utter manipulative son of a bitch.”

He drops the gun from Dick’s chest to hold it by his side instead, and with that the rest of the world bleeds back into focus again. Dick didn’t even realise how fast his heart’s been beating, but he can feel it now, like a pile-driver trying to break through his ribcage. Even the relief he feels at Jason’s surrender isn’t enough to slow it down.

“Jason -” He reaches for him, wanting to communicate how grateful he is. How proud he is of Jason for agreeing to do this. But Jason flinches away from his touch, shaking his head as he steps back.

“Don’t! Don’t… don’t touch me, don’t fucking even…” He keeps retreating, as if Dick’s some dangerous and contagious thing. “I’m leaving. Fuck you, I’m leaving. Don’t try and follow me this time. If you do…” Jason lets the unspoken threat hang for a moment before continuing. “Christ, I can’t even fucking look at you right now. Just… just do the thing you promised to do.”

Dick curls his hands into fists as he watches Jason turn and stalk away into the gloom, without even a single glance back in his direction. It hurts to watch him leave again, the way he always seems to, but Dick doesn’t doubt the sincerity of his words. He’s pushed Jason almost to breaking enough times in the past twenty-four hours. Now the only thing left to do is prove that what he said is true.

Once Jason’s out of sight, Dick turns and goes over to the perp, who’s passed out at this point. He secures the man with a pair of cuffs this time, as double insurance that he won’t get away, before giving his leg the most cursory of medical attention; just enough to ensure that he won’t die before the police get here. Then he returns to wait with the kids, who are and always will be his most important concern, reassuring them once again that they’re safe.

Dick stays just long to talk briefly to the first cops on the scene. He gives them a rundown on the situation, making sure that they know to link the evidence from this site to the stuff from the truck stop, as well as promising them that more is on the way. A whole lot more, because Dick’s investigation up to this point has been beyond thorough. Barbara will see that it’s all communicated to the force soon enough. The trafficking ring was an international one, and there’s going to be a whole lot of charges thrown at the men behind it in the coming weeks from a whole lot of different countries.

It’ll be enough. He’s sure it will be. Jason will see that he wasn’t lying, and maybe, hopefully, in time he’ll forgive Dick for what he did tonight.

*

_Six months later_

The sun rises over Gotham, painting the sky in watercolour shades of pink and purple. The wonder of it is ruined a little by the knowledge that it’s the pollution in the air that makes the colours burn so brightly, but it’s still a beautiful sight after the all chaos and horror that had preceded the dawn.

It’s been a long night. A long fight, and now Dick leans back against the the curved walls of one of the city’s larger water towers, taking a moment to feel the exhausted ache of his muscles and watch the new day begin before he gathers the energy to head home.

Not much surprises him in Gotham anymore. A secret society controlling the city from the bricks up, it’s existence hinted at only by a children’s nursery rhyme, however? Yeah, that’d do it. Especially when it was one he’d been destined to join as a child before Bruce unwittingly saved him from a life of torture, death, and blood.

Finding out about the dark heart of Haly’s Circus had been a betrayal, but one he could ultimately forgive. Mr. Haly had done what he had to protect lives, as the Court threatened everyone who lived under his canvas if he didn’t cooperate. But he’d done the right thing in the end, giving Dick the necessary evidence to take them down and saving who knew how many more lives in the process.

He’s alive, they’re all alive. And the ruination of the Court of Owls is a victory no one can deny, leaving one less dark secret to fester in Gotham’s beleaguered heart.

His thoughts are disturbed by the sound of footsteps touching down lightly to the left of him, and when Dick turns his head to see who it is that’s joined him on his perch he’s not at all shocked to see Jason looking back at him.

Another, far more pleasant surprise than the Owls, had been when Jason showed up to fight alongside the rest of his family, responding to the call Alfred put out for reinforcements at the beginning of the night. He’d slipped back into their ranks like he’d never left, to the point that even Bruce had seemed pleased to see him.

“Hey.” Dick says quietly, moving his hand to pat the piece of gantry next to him in invitation. It’s an optimistic gesture, considering that they’d had no time to talk earlier, not with undead Talons surrounding them on every side. Not even to say hello. Which means that Dick has no idea what it is that’s going through Jason’s head when it comes to him. Their last encounter had ended poorly, and now…

Now he has no idea what to expect. Only the fact that Jason seems to have deliberately chosen to seek him out gives him hope.

Jason hesitates, then steps forwards. He peels off his helmet before taking a seat next to him, threading his legs through the safety railing at the base of the water tower the same as Dick has. “Hey yourself.”

“Long night, huh?” He asks conversationally, as if this isn’t completely awkward.

“The longest.” Jason agrees, rubbing at his head. Sweat has dried his hair down against his scalp, containing the thick curls in a way hair gel had never been able to. But a few quick sweeps of Jason’s hand through his hair soon sets that to rights. “I swear, this fucking city. Every time you’ve think you’ve gotten to the worst of it, she digs up something new to throw at you.”

“You missed it.” Dick says knowingly.

Jason laughs, looking surprised at himself for doing so, “Damn right, I did.” He turns his face to the east and the warmth of the rising sun, “Don’t get me wrong. Living in a tropical paradise is nice. But Gotham…”

“Is home.”

“Yeah. That she is.”

Dick loves that. The way Jason always talks about Gotham like the city is a person, a woman. Like it’s alive, the same way Bruce does. It’s one of the traits the two of them have always shared.

Dick himself has never quite been able to think of it that way, maybe because he wasn’t born here like they were, even if turns out Gotham was in his blood all along.

And he’s still not sure what to feel about that. He’s never been a fan of the theory of pre-ordained destiny - as his refusal of the Court’s offer for him to become their assassin tonight had proven. Dick chose his own fate. They all did, blood be damned.

“I’m glad you came back.”

Jason’s cheeks flush pink, in way that can’t entirely be blamed on the rising sun. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to let some creepy owl fucks run rampant over my city. There’s only room for one type of bird in Gotham, and it ain’t them.”

“The Birds of Prey might disagree with you there.”

“To bad for them. Robin’s rule the roost, Dickie bird, that’s just the way it is.”

Dick chuckles, and it’s nice, at least until the sound fades and silence settles between them again. Then he finds himself in the rare situation of feeling lost for more words, as the subject of what happened six months ago weighs down on them like the proverbial elephant in the room - or in this case, on the roof. It can’t be ignored, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up in a way that won’t be totally uncomfortable for Jason either.

“You were right.”

“I’m sorry?”

“About that guy. Bridges. That he wouldn’t be getting back out of prison again. That evidence you had against him...” Jason reaches up and rubs his face. “I’ve been following the case. I needed to make sure you kept your word. I couldn’t…”

“I know, Jay.”

“No, you don’t. But it doesn’t matter. You kept your word. Three life sentences for murder charges on top of everything else.” He laughs a little, but it’s a cold bitter sound. “I don’t know where you dug the evidence for those up, but I’m glad you did.”

Dick smiles a little. “I know a few people.”

“Yeah, you do. I guess that’s one thing you do have over on me.” Jason shakes his head. “It’s still fucked though. It takes a murder charge to get a life sentence, like rape isn’t just as bad. Like trafficking kids isn’t the most evil thing anyone can do. The legal system in this country is so fucked.”

Against that, Dick can’t argue. “He won’t hurt another kid, Jason. Not ever, he can’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I know, I just...” Jason inhales sharply, then looks directly at Dick. “Thanks. For keeping your promise. It meant… it means a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Jay. I meant it when I said I’d never make another promise to you I couldn’t keep.”

“Because you’re a fucking boy scout or whatever, I know.” Jason agrees. He fidgets, fingers tapping on the grated metal they’re sitting on, before evidently deciding to change the subject. “So how come you’re sitting out here all alone. Shouldn’t you be celebrating your victory back at the manor with the others?”

Dick shakes his head this time. “After everything that happened last night, I kind of just wanted some peace and quiet, you know? Besides, I don’t think any of us really have the energy left to ‘celebrate’ this morning.”

“You ain’t kidding about that.” Jason sighs, before looking sidelong at Dick. He wears his concern openly on his face, the same as every other emotion. “... are _you_ okay? With all that stuff you found out about the circus and your family, I mean.”

As to that, Dick has no real answer. “I don’t know yet. I always thought… I always thought that the part of my life with the circus was the only thing that was normal, you know? That was safe and happy and innocent. And now… now it’s...”

_Corrupted._

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll get over it.” Dick assures him. “I just need some time first.” Then he asks the important question. The one that’s been on his mind ever since he saw Jason enter the fray. “So, are you planning on sticking around this time?”

Jason shrugs, broad shoulders jumping up and down. He lets Dick change the subject a second time without comment. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. Might be nice to stay here for a while, though. Stalk the old neighbourhood. Maybe even pester the old man a little until he decides to chase me out of the city again.”

“He won’t, you did good tonight.” Dick assures, then adds to it by saying, “I hear you’ve been doing good a lot lately.”

“Through Roy and Kori?”

“Through a lot of channels, Jay. The Outlaws are starting to get a real name for themselves.”

Jason smiles, a quick flash of teeth. “Yeah, we are.”

He sounds proud, as well as shyly pleased, of himself. Of them. And he should. According to Roy and Kori (because yes, Dick has kept contact with them over his little brother. He couldn’t not, worried about Jason as much he was.) the Red Hood’s kill count in the last six months has been exactly zero. “Soon we’ll be giving the Justice League a run for their money.”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, little wing.” Dick smiles nonetheless, leaning in a little towards Jason. He’s close enough that just moving his leg an inch across has their thighs pressing together, and it’s oh so tempting to let his head drop down onto Jason’s shoulder too, considering how tired he is.

“I’m just saying, we’re good, and the whole world better watch out for it.”

A moment of silence passes before Jason looks down at him, sucking on his teeth. “You know, you could always join us sometime. I mean, if you want. Might be fun. Roy and Kory would enjoy having you around.”

The offer almost sounds like an apology, which is interesting. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll think about it.” Dick smiles, “It’s been a while since I last worked with a team.”

“Besides our family, you mean.”

“Family doesn’t count. It just is.” Fuck it, he gives into his urge, placing his head down on Jason’s shoulder. Under his cheek, Jason’s muscles go tense, but a moment later Dick feels the point of his chin rest against his hair. It’s nice, more comfortable than it has any right to be given all the turmoil they’ve been through together. “They’re always there when you need them.”

Dick hears the sharp intake of Jason’s breath when he says that, but he doesn’t pull away. “So what does that make us?”

It’s a loaded question, and not one Dick has the immediate answer to. “I don’t know, Jay, but if you’re willing to stick around we can try and figure that out, if you want.”

“Yeah.” Jason says eventually, when he’s gotten over his clear surprise at the offer. “Yeah, okay.”

They sit quietly together for a while longer, then Jason clears his throat. “You know, the sunrise is pretty, but if you try and sleep here I’m pretty sure you’ll end up with sunburn. That or pigeon crap in your hair.”

“Mm.” His eyes have been closed the last five minutes, that’s true. Now Dick forces them open and yawns, “You’re right, I should head home.”

“I’ve got a safehouse near here you can crash at if you want.”

Dick sits up straight, looking directly at Jason for a long time. It’s an innocent enough offer, but he wants to make sure they’re completely on the level with one another before saying yes. “... are you sure?”

“Just to sleep. Nothing else, I’m not... But yeah, Dickie bird. I’m sure.” Jason hastens to add. He scratches the back of his head self-consciously. “It’s not every day you find out you were supposed to be some undead assassin for a creepy cult. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you’ll crash a bike if you try to ride one right now. No one needs to drive all the way back to Bludhaven after that.”

“Okay, Jay.” Dick says warmly, acknowledging that reasoning with a grateful dip of his head. “Then let’s go.”

Jason stands up first, then offers Dick a hand back up onto his feet that he gratefully takes. They’re both wearing gloves, but the contact still makes his heart beat a little faster as Jason lifts him with ease, pulling Dick to stand so close to him that there’s only inches left between their faces.

“Dick…”

He wonders if it would be bad to kiss him now, to replace the memory of the hard kisses they’d shared before with something softer, then decides against it. It’s enough to know that Jason is willingly here with him now, instead of an ocean away.

So rather than doing anything to spoil the moment, Dick just keeps hold of Jason’s hand, squeezing it tight and smiling when he sees the faint blush that steals its way across the bridge of his brother’s nose and down onto his cheeks. “Lead the way, little wing. I promise I’ll be right behind you.”

Jason nods, managing a small smile before he lets Dick’s hand go and picks up his helmet. The sun continues to rise behind them as they jog across the rooftops to a quiet looking apartment building nearby. Dick basks in the heat of it on the back of his neck, but it doesn’t warm his heart half as much as the sight of Jason running before him does.

With a little more luck and perseverance, they might just be okay after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr!](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)
> 
> All kudos and comments are vastly appreciated.


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